


Showtime

by manicr



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, I'm not pretending to have a plot even, Lester has the hots for Frank, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Not Beta Read, One-Sided Attraction, PWP, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threesome - M/M/M, aka Brock and Lester are fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:13:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicr/pseuds/manicr
Summary: It started as a job, but a good fight always got Bullseye horny.
Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter, Bullseye/Crossbones/Punisher, Crossbones/Bullseye, Frank Castle/Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter, Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Brock Rumlow/Frank Castle, Punisher/Bullseye
Comments: 13
Kudos: 20





	Showtime

Three was a crowd on a job, according to Bullseye. Nevermind that only Crossbones was there to do the _same_ job as him; the _Punisher_ was there because he knew that a hit had been taken on the sleazeball and wanted to take down _all_ of them. 

Greedy, he mused and took the shot. 

The thing about being a sniper was that you didn’t have to get close to the target, which was a _massive_ advantage when you were competing with others to get to the kill _first_. Straight between the eyes; _Bull’s eye_. The kill went live from his scope cam to his phone, and he sent the client confirmation. _Kaching_. A cool $500 000. 

Time to pack up, before things got messy. He wasn’t very concerned about the competition -- he and Brock had an agreement, which frankly extended to _more_ than the professional -- but Frank could be a _little testy_ when it came to confrontations. Bullseye didn’t take the attempted murder personally: it was _fun_ . But he wasn’t _exactly_ set on dealing with Frank’s _affections_ at the moment. He was just about to get off the rooftop when the shots came down, forcing him to retreat behind a ventilation shaft. High caliber, good marksmanship; it was him. 

“Hiya, Frank! How ya been?” Bullseye shouted with a grin, shifting from his rifle to something more maneuverable; a simple SIG Sauer P320. The only answer he got was more shots, one slamming into the shaft with a loud bang, thankfully, without exiting. Better to shift to a more defensive position. Bullseye dared a flurry of shots into the general direction of the Punisher’s probable location. He knew Frank tended to get rather close to his targets on a kill: he was an accomplished sniper, but Frank _preferred intimacy_. It was kinda hot, honestly. 

Bullseye chuckled to himself, counting the returning fire Frank was sending his way, and then threw himself into a roll to find cover, _still_ hearing the bullets hail around him. Extended magazine, he supposed ruefully. It got his heart racing, and he could tell that Frank had already shifted positions from the vector they were hitting. 

“Missed me!” he shouted gleefully and glanced over to see if he could get a visual on Frank. No such luck, just another hail of bullets. Frank must have come ready to play, carrying a lot of ammo. His current cover wasn’t much better than the vent, but the low partition wall was more solid. If Frank kept circling like this it would soon do him no good. Bullseye needed to get eyes on him. 

“Ya know, you don’t write, you don’t call, and then just pop out of nowhere. At least talk to me, Frankie boy,” Bullseye shouted as he took his only grenade from his pack and tried to estimate where Frank was at the moment. It’d be so much easier if Frank _actually_ answered him. Of course, Frank **knew that**. “You’re starting to make me think you don’t like me! After all the fun we’ve had!”

“Die already, you fidgety bastard,” came a gruff bark, either Frank hadn’t been able to stop himself or he was goading him. Whichever, it meant that Bullseye had a better idea of his position and lobbed the grenade in that direction. He didn’t count on killing Frank, but to flush him out so that the **real fun** could begin. The explosion brought another grin to his face, and he rushed to the next somewhat covered position, trying to get an eye on Frank as he did. More bullets. Frank was alive and kicking. Bullseye dove and felt a burn along his thigh, hitting hard on his shoulder as he landed, forced to ball up tighter than he wanted by the limited space. Sitting up, chuckling breathlessly, Bullseye inspected the damage, a flesh wound that was closer to a burn as the bullet had grazed him. 

“Well, shit,” he panted out. He was starting to realize that Frank had him pretty pinned on the rooftop, and, whatever position he was working from, he was keeping the high ground. He’d have to think outside the box to get out of this one, and he didn’t have more grenades on him. Bullseye hadn’t thought to pack with the Punisher in mind. Frank had been out of the city a lot or involved in real superhero shit, instead of doing his more traditional prowling of the streets for baddies to ventilate with extreme prejudice. 

“It’s good to have ya back, Frankie. I was starting to think that you’d gone and died on me, ya know.” His constant chatter usually made Frank annoyed enough to get a little bolder, as in wanting to bash in his teeth and step on him. Best of all, to abandon cover and caution. He returned fire, trying to see if he could flush him out once more.

Their firefight had been less than ten minutes at this point, maybe even just five, Bullseye roughly estimated. But it had probably drawn some attention, but, on the other hand, most supes avoided a Punisher fight for good reason. He supposed it also gave them an excuse to see crooks executed rather than apprehended, without getting their hands dirty. The hypocritical cowards. 

Bullseye reloaded, flicking the old magazine away, and trying to assess the layout and where he and Frank were in relation to each other. Frank was treating this seriously: keeping his distance and pinning him down as much as he could, making it a challenge. One Bullseye was more than happy to rise to, metaphorically and literally, as parts of his anatomy attested to. Bullseye stood and fired, keeping steady movement as he did, forced down as yet another bullet clipped him, this time on the shoulder. He took cover behind the base of the water tank, it wasn’t much, but better than nothing. Closer to the edge now, and given a few more moments, he could jump to the next building and sprint for it. His shoulder burned, he prodded the wound with a hiss and knew that it had gone through and through, just another flesh wound. Not bad. But it would limit how much weight he could take on his left arm. The blood loss wouldn’t be too much of an issue.

Another spray of bullets took him by surprise; they were coming from the wrong direction, the one that left him utterly exposed. For a moment, Bullseye froze, but burst into a relieved chuckle moments later, as he spotted Crossbones from the other rooftop. Giving Crossbones a cheerful wave, Bullseye went for the opposite that he’d intended: he rushed Frank. He could imagine the exasperated face Brock would make but knew that he wouldn’t pull out. That was the funny thing about the military types, they didn’t like to disengage once they were in it nor leave a man behind. And Crossbones was as military as they came, despite spending most of his career in Hydra. It was all in the mindset.

Just as he expected, Crossbones gave him covering fire as he rushed Frank, and he finally had a visual. He’d swapped the gun for knives, wanting to honor Frank with something _personal._ “Tag, you’re it!” 

Frank grunted and growled, rolling away from the worst of it, but Bullseye got him. A knife was stuck hilt-deep in Frank’s thick thigh, and he had a gash on his face and arm that bled heavily. 

“Looking good, Frankie, been working out?” Bullseye said with a grin, twirling a blade and jumping down from the wall to Frank’s level. Frank Castle was a brick house of a man, rugged and borderline unkempt, decked in military gear with a spray-on skull-logo on his vest. Sure, he showed his age with the receding hairline and the weight of his rugged face, but _damn_ if he didn’t make it look good. The hateful scowl and blood on his face made it all better. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Frank gritted and lunged for him.

“Not really,” he confessed, shifting away from the punch that would have busted his teeth in. “Not unless I have a mouthful.” He was being mouthy on purpose now, enjoying riling Frank up, seeing how it made him _tick_. 

Bullseye went for a kick, aiming for the knife still stuck in Frank’s thigh, wanting to hear him _howl_. It wasn’t much, but Frank let out a strangled cry at the impact and lost his footing. The sound went straight to his groin. “Oh, that’s _good_ ,” Bullseye groaned. 

“I hope you enjoy _this_ then,” Frank hissed and grappled him off his feet. The fall hurt his shoulder, prompting a grunt out of him, and he kicked Frank in the face to try to free himself. Frank punched him in the gut, making him wheeze, and pulled a knife, ready to stab it straight in his chest. 

A shot hit the cement next to them, loud, and sending a puff of dust into the air. 

“God, you’re dumb as shit at times, Bullseye,” Crossbones remarked from his vantage point, his rifle trained at Frank. “Don’t move or I’ll blow your brains out.” The last bit he directed at Frank, or at least that’s what Bullseye assumed. 

“What? It deserved a little personal attention,” Bullseye defended himself with a grin, once more kicking Frank in the face, or rather he pushed his foot into his face and tried to get him off. It split Frank’s lip and Bullseye was mesmerized by the blood, he didn’t even mind when Frank spat it at him. His pants felt uncomfortably tight, which wasn’t made any better by Frank’s heft on him.

“Back off him,” Crossbones ordered, “ **slowly**.” 

Frank didn’t even flinch. “I’m the one with a knife on him.”

“I’ll still kill you even if he dies.”

Frank eyed the two of them with calculated suspicion. “Then there’s one less scumbag. You’ll kill me anyhow.”

“With the hard-on Lester has for you, I doubt he’d let me,” Brock said with a resigned sigh, gun pointed firmly at him. Frank glanced at the literal hard-on Bullseye was sporting, having politely ignored it so far, and made a huffing noise that Bullseye couldn’t quite understand. 

“Rude!” he yelled at Brock, who in turn flipped him the bird. “I don’t go around tell people who you wanna fuck!”

“You’re painfully obvious. You’ve been flirting more than fighting him. Since you owe me, I’ll fuck you when we’re at mine, so just keep it in your pants for a moment.” Brock said it like an order, and that was hot as well, but he wasn’t about to stop his fun just because Brock was feeling some kind of way.

Brock turned to Frank again. “Now, drop the knife. I’ll let you go once he’s clear.”

This time, for whatever reason, Frank obeyed, dropping the blade, not looking the least bit afraid, and climbed to his feet. Bullseye stood up as well, ready for the inevitable moment where Frank did something stupid and incredibly violent. He wasn’t disappointed as Frank positioned himself behind him, and went for the blade that was still stuck in his thigh. The only way to deal with a weapon _that_ close-up was to get even closer to disarm your opponent; Bullseye _slammed_ into Frank’s wrist and thrust his knee up into his gut, pressing himself up against his body. Frank had a good three inches on him and a lot in sheer bulk, but there was little you could do when you were that close. The blade fell to the ground, and Frank bared his bloodied teeth at him. 

“For the love of--” Brock muttered, jumping down and pulling a knife. Bullseye heard his steps and then felt him flush against his back, a hand on his hip the other pressing the knife to Frank’s throat. It left Bullseye pressed between the two taller men, and made sure that his cock was hard enough to hurt.

“Here’s the _deal_ ,” Brock declared with a clipped tone. “Lester here’s gonna deal with his _little_ problem and suck you off. You’ll **finally** get him to shut up, Castle.” Frank glared but didn’t say anything. 

Bullseye groaned a curse but he wasn’t going to say ‘no’. He turned his head and tugged at Brock’s mask, pulling it enough to uncover his mouth, stealing a kiss and biting Brock’s lips. 

“Fuck, I’m _so_ turned on,” Bullseye mumbled, quite happy in his current position, rubbing his ass against Brock’s groin and rocking against Frank. He unzipped Frank without any preamble, palming his cock with a low chuckle; it wasn’t altogether unhappy about the attention. Fuck, Frank was _thick_ and heavy. He’d thought about his cock before, jerked off to daydreams about fighting, and fucking blurred into a bloody mess.

Smiling, he slipped down to his knees, Brock taking a step to the side to keep an eye on Frank. “Hurt him and I’ll bleed you dry, you’ll die even as he sucks you,” Brock said, voice more raw than before, obviously enjoying things more than he wanted to let on.

Bullseye didn’t waste more time and took Frank deep into his mouth, lips drawn tight around his girth. He looked up at Frank and Brock, pleased to see that both men were, despite themselves, utterly focused on him. Frank’s cock swelled in his mouth and he bobbed on it, spit running down the sides of his mouth. The smell of Frank’s cock and the blood all over his thigh turned him on further. He rubbed the wound, smearing his gloves in blood, making Frank curse even as he sucked him hard.

A hand grabbed his head and shoved him flush into Frank’s groin, curly pubes tickling at his nose, and he half-choked on it until the pressure lessened. He pulled off Frank’s cock, coughing and spitting slightly, and tugged at Brock’s belt for leverage. Teary-eyed, he looked up and saw that Frank was once more bleeding from his mouth and nose. Brock must have punched him for that stunt. Possessive much. Brock’s hand caressed his swollen lips, spreading saliva around, eyes set on him with a look that he was very familiar with. “You’re so _pretty_ like this.”

“Then fuck me,” Bullseye said, his voice a hoarse whisper. Brock repeated a heartfelt curse and eyed Frank with annoyance, obviously not trusting him enough to just leave his side. Brock grumbled and grabbed a zip-tie from his belt, grabbing Frank by the shoulder and slamming him into the wall, probably making his nose bleed even more. With military efficiency, he zip-tied Frank’s hands behind his back and turned him back around again. Frank made an attractive scene, tied-up, bloodied, and with his cock hard and slick. Bullseye grinned and licked his lips, looking forward to round two.

“Should’ve done that from the start,” Brock grumbled and moved behind Bullseye again. “Try anything funny, and I’ll still kill you.” Frank cocked a brow as if to indicate that there wasn’t much he _could_ do at the moment. Bullseye was a little surprised that he was taking this that easily, but he didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You’ll owe me, the fucking things I do for you.” Brock knelt behind him and unzipped, grabbing him by the jaw and giving him a bruising kiss. 

“You _love_ it,” Bullseye countered and huffed a laugh, tugging down his pants, freeing his cock, and pressing his ass against Brock again. Brock was as hard as him, and it felt _really_ good to have his large cock rubbing against his ass. “Got slick?”

“Some, gimme a sec,” Brock said and fumbled with a lube pack from his belt pack. Brock was a veritable boy scout, always prepared. Lucky him. Bullseye’s breath hitched as he felt Brock’s slick fingers slip inside him, his cock bobbing at the sensation. He caught Frank’s eye and kept staring at him as Brock fingered him. Regardless of the stoic face Frank was giving him, he was hard, he wasn’t trying to run, and he was starring at him. Having his attention as Bullseye knelt at his feet while getting finger fucked was nearly as good as a dozen cameras. 

“Get back to ya in a mo’, Frankie. Just gotta, _ah_ , get Brock settled.” He chuckled and breathed hard, moaning loud as he finally felt Brock push inside him. Brock kissed him again, rocking upward and getting fully inside him. 

“Shut up and stuff your mouth already,” Brock groused, making Bullseye laugh and deliberately wiggle on his cock, before he leaned forward and grabbed Frank’s cock, licking at the head. He bobbed down on it fully as Brock thrust into him hard, hands on his hips, pushing him forward. Bullseye braced himself on Frank’s hips and keeping his knees spread as wide as he could to balance himself as well as to take Brock deeper.

Breathing fitfully through his nose, Bullseye rocked between them pleasantly overwhelmed with the feeling of being utterly full. Brock rutted hard against his ass, his breath heavy on his neck and his hands roaming his body, pushing up his suit to his armpits. Bullseye felt hyper-aware of every push and his thighs trembled at it, and he moaned on Frank’s cock, sucking at it nearly desperately. He nearly missed the low deep noise Frank made, but it made him look up and revel in the reluctant pleasure on his face. God, it was so _good_. 

Brock was heavy and hot on him and in him, it made him ache and he wanted it to last, even if he couldn’t take it much longer. His lips on Frank softened and he took him in deeper instead, picking up his pace since he knew that soon he’d lose any control to just writhing on Brock’s cock. Frank grunted hard as Bullseye bobbed on him, getting closer to coming. 

Without warning, Brock grabbed him and pulled him off Frank’s cock, drool running down his chin as he gasped. His mask was pulled off harshly, baring his face and the bull’s eye carved into his forehead.

“You don’t get to come in his mouth,” Brock snarled and held Bullseye’s jaw hard with one hand, the other tugged at Frank’s cock “There’s a target, use it.”

“You sunnova--” Bullseye gasped and sputtered as hot come hit his face, nominally on the scar but dripping down his face. Brock let go of Frank, wiped his hand on Frank’s army issue pants, and slammed into Bullseye with vengeance. 

“I’ll indulge you, babe, but it’s me who’ll fill ya up,” Brock said, forcing him down on his elbows, ass up, picking up a punishing pace that slammed into his sweet spot like a jackhammer. Bullseye whined and gasped, having a complete white-out as he came, going boneless as Brock finished inside him.

Panting, he lay still for a while, feeling his ass drip as Brock pulled out leaving an emptiness that he wanted filled. Bullseye felt utterly stupid and satisfied, a ragdoll as Brock pulled him up into half a hug, biting into his throat. The pain sparked him awake but it felt good.

His eyes vaguely refocused on Frank, who seemed to have pulled himself together, cock hanging limply out of his pants. Bullseye winked at him and flashed him a grin. “Enjoyed the show, Frankie?” 

Frank spat blood on the ground and gave him a sneer. Bullseye laughed, then winced at his injuries and his sore body. “Brock, take me to somewhere with a bed and room service. We have half a mil to burn, and I’m feeling generous.”

Brock huffed a laugh, and got the both of them up on their feet and dressed. Bullseye wiped off his face on his unbloodied glove and flicked it off on the ground. He armed himself casually and kicked away Frank’s weapons to a more reasonable distance. 

“I had fun,” he told Frank and blew him a kiss. “See ya!” Bullseye burst into another pleased laugh, leaving Frank cock-out, zip-tied, and disarmed.

THE END


End file.
